Summer of Seventeen Challenge Collection
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: I'm posting my subsequent entries for the Summer Bonesology Prompts in this group of stories.
1. Chapter 1

The Jeffersonian's Jabberwocky

As the lab's main entry doors slid open, and a staccato rhythm of stiletto heels echoed across the gleaming just-waxed floor, Temperance Brennan looked up from the stainless steel table upon which rested the latest victim needing her examination. She watched as her former intern approached the platform stairs. The younger woman's head was down as she searched her wallet for her access card to swipe in the security reader, so she didn't see the smile that spread across Brennan's face as she observed her associate.

After completing her doctorate, Daisy Wick had moved on to another prestigious institution in DC, George Washington University, where she became a liaison between the academics and the medical school at GW Hospital. Medical anthropology was only slightly different from its forensic cousin, and the position offered her a predictable flexible work schedule mostly during the day. Now a single parent and sole provider, Daisy's main focus was giving her son the attention he deserved after Sweets' untimely death.

Daisy had tamed her excitable impulses as she gained maturity, and Brennan was proud of the fine reputation Ms. Wicks was building as an insightful mentor to eager medical students. Years earlier, Booth had given her talkative intern a private nickname which Brennan had no difficulty comprehending, despite her lack of pop culture knowledge. Booth had called Daisy "Tweetie Bird" because of her constant over-eager commentary and tendency to blurt inappropriate thoughts and reactions out loud.

She could almost seem as aggressive as the small yellow cartoon character had originally been, taunting Sylvester and his pals when Granny wasn't around. Brennan had some other mental nicknames for Daisy; much more straightforward ones; "Chatterbox", "Jabberwocky", "Loquacious Linda", "Talkative Tilly", "Garrulous Gertrude". The senior scientist had amused herself one hot humid afternoon in Maluku, silently devising labels for her intern, when they were brushing dirt away from bones. The most tedious task involved in a dig; very critical, yet boring. Mind-numbingly so. When Daisy's incessant talking nearly drove her mentor to dive into a bottle of scotch during the workday, Brennan would compose haiku verses, limericks, and other short poems about the effusive young woman working beside her. But Angela had dubbed her with the most obvious and appropriate moniker "Chatty Cathy."

The lab team had considered divulging these nicknames to their recipient upon her return from a brief babymoon with Sweets. They had vented their frustration with her lack of impulse control and silence while the pair were absent and jokingly developed a whole list of appropriate nicknames for Daisy. However, the day they returned, Sweets had left after lunch to serve the warrant which left him bleeding in a parking lot, and dead shortly after.

Bereft from the loss of their friend, no one at the Jeffersonian had the heart to tease Daisy unnecessarily, so the nicknames remained a secret most of the time. At night at home, Booth and Brennan, or Jack and Angela would chuckle over the zany intern's latest foible. But the girl had a razor sharp intellect, superb observational skills, and a good heart, so they overlooked her verbosity. After all, no one is perfect. But her nicknames needed no explanation.; their origin was obvious.

Today, Daisy was consulting with Brennan on a case possibly involving a GWU med student. Six years earlier a surgical resident had intentionally botched a simple tonsillectomy surgery on his classmate's child because her father had won the residency he craved. He'd been expelled immediately. A prestigious fellowship would have enhanced his promising surgical talent right after graduation that June. But his spiteful hatred snuffed out a brilliant future.

The Baltimore Police Department had followed a trail of dead bodies to the conclusion that William Huntington was still performing hacksaw surgery in a Monument Street slumlord's back room. Daisy had worked with the Baltimore PD identifying incision techniques, analyzing suturing patterns, and developing a profile of the likely killer. She'd served as an expert witness, but Huntington's slimy lawyer had gotten his client off on a technicality. Fourteen-year-old Hector Patterson had needed a tonsillectomy his impoverished parents could not afford. The condition of his throat and face led the Jeffersonian team to suspect he was Huntington's latest unfortunate patient. Knowing of Daisy's work, Brennan asked her to examine the victim.

Pulling her guest consultant access card from the red leather purse she carried, Daisy swiped it and smiled up at her cohort.

"Dr. Brennan, it's so good to see you again!"

"Ms. Wick, Daisy, there's no need to be so formal any more. Please call me 'Brennan' as Angela does. I'm pleased your schedule allowed you to assist me. I'm looking forward to your assessment of this young man's fatal injuries. If they're consistent with Huntington's methodology, we may have enough evidence to convict and terminate his nefarious career."


	2. Chapter 2

Jabberwocky, Concluded

In the midst of their examination of Hector Patterson's remains, Daisy took a silent moment to relish the experience of standing beside Dr. Brennan as a partner and equal, rather than in the role of student, protégé, or intern. She had come a long way since first stepping through the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab's entrance, not only professionally, but personally as well. Her self-control had increased exponentially through the devoted tutelage of her beloved Lancelot.

She'd always known she was smart and noticed details which others overlooked, but it had taken intense effort to become a restrained and deliberate professional. Her nature was bombastic, impulsive, eager to dive right in. Her field of endeavor was studious, thorough and somewhat subdued when successes came. There was a time and place for exuberant glee over a discovery, but circumstances which called for decorum and seriously supporting one's claim with a plethora of facts, figures, and statistics.

With subtle nudging from Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan had loosened up over the years; and conversely, she had become more disciplined and reflective. The gradual adjustment and honing of their personalities had brought them alongside one another in mutual respect and admiration. She would remember and treasure this cooperative consulting opportunity for the rest of her life. She remembered her surprise upon spotting Brennan's email message and how thrilled beyond words she'd felt reading her former mentor's request for a consult. It was a pinnacle for her, not the first nor the last, but perhaps the most significant; because it involved the woman who had been her role model for so long.

Neither woman noticed the time as they worked side by side, discussing what Brennan had observed, the data her current assistant had compiled, the models and work-ups Angela had designed. Lunch time came and went as Daisy entered trends, facts, and figures into her predictive perpetrator algorithm. She glanced at Brennan, ready to share her initial assessment, and noticed her colleague's twinkling blue eyes and wide smile.

"We got him, didn't we?" Brennan asked.

Yup, I think we've nailed him! We have solid evidence here that the person who performed this horridly botched surgery on Hector Patterson's pharynx was William Huntington!" Daisy declared.

Just as she began describing the parameters of her model, a male voice boomed across the lab.

"Bones, it's past lunchtime!" Booth announced. "Let's go to the diner! Sweets will come haunt me if I don't feed Daisy properly! I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Agent Booth, we've got your suspect," Daisy told him. "All the data we've collected correlate to his M.O."

"The incisions, the stitches we've observed and documented—all the elements of this wretchedly-executed tonsillectomy match his methods perfectly. If I didn't know his cruel motivation, I'd consider him totally inept. His turning to crime is a tragic waste of education and talent, if you ask me," she finished.

"That sounds great! I wanna hear all the details, Daisy; _after_ we eat! I understand you've given expert testimony before; I think Caroline will want you to testify for us when Thompson goes to trial. And, Daisy, call me Booth!"

"I'm glad I could be a help to you guys," Daisy said.

"We both appreciate it, kiddo!" Booth smiled. "Sweets would be proud of you; _is_ proud of you."

"Yes, Daisy, thank you and Booth is correct. Sweets would heartily approve of what you've accomplished professionally and how well you're raising little Lance!" Brennan agreed.

"And as for eating, Booth, we are both famished, so you'll get no argument from us about heading to the diner."

"Then, chop, chop, ladies. As Pops would say 'let's vamoose; time's a-wastin'!"


	3. Chapter 3

The Surprise at Sunrise

 _A/N: This chapter doesn't answer any of the Bonesology challenges. It just popped into my head this morning._

Booth had a special surprise planned for Parker. He woke his son at 5:30 am, which would have been a monumental struggle had there not been a treat in store. The boy hopped out of bed, pulled a t-shirt over his head, attempted to jump into a pair of shorts with both feet, and tumbled back on to his mattress. Holding a pancake in midair as he flipped it, Booth dropped the spatula and strode quickly down the short hallway.

"Parker, you okay?"

He was met with a fit of giggles. "I was tryin' to put on my shorts but I fell over!"

"You can't pull on a pair of shorts?" his father asked in surprise. "You've been dressing yourself since you were two and a half, 'cept on Sundays."

Parker stopped laughing to take a breath. "Dad, jumping in feet first is harder than it looks!"

"Both feet at once? That would take some coordination! Just get 'em on; your pancakes are getting cold! We need to be on the road!"

"Dad, where're we goin'?"

"You'll see soon enough," Booth assured him. "Can you eat your pancakes without syrup? I can put your milk in a go-cup so it won't spill in the car."

"I like syrup better, but sure, if we get to my surprise quicker, that's okay," Parker agreed. "You got a dish cloth I can use to catch crumbs?"

Booth stared at his son. "Since when do you care about making a mess?"

"Mom's been on me to keep things neater in the car. It's kinda nice not sitting on crumbs,' cause they itch my legs," the boy told him.

Having made sure Parker was properly bucked in, Booth left Adams Morgan behind and headed south toward Alexandria. The sun was just visible at the horizon, streaking the sky with vivid shades of pink and orange. His son chomped, chatted, chewed and gulped his way through breakfast, talking thw whole time. Booth grinned to himself, hearing about first grade, day care and what Rebecca had been up to lately from the viewpoint of a six-year-old boy. A half hour later, he pulled his SUV into the parking lot of Whittier Recreational Fields, adjacent to a ball diamond. Parker's eyes widened.

"Who's playin' baseball this early in the morning, Dad? Don't these guys gotta go to work?"

"These guys are practicing for the Congressional Baseball Game for Charity, Bub," Booth answered.

"The senators and congressmen play each other every year to raise money for different causes, like the Boys' and Girls Club of DC and literacy groups. They've been doing it pretty regularly since 1909. Raised $500,000 last year."

"Wow! Lotta money, huh, Dad?"

"Come on, kiddo, we can see a lot better from the bleachers than from my truck!"

He unclipped the seat belt which secured Parker's protective seat, and his son hopped out. The pair found seats behind the batting area and climbed high enough to give the boy a good view of the field. It was obvious to Booth that the men practicing their baseball skills were a varied bunch.

Some had played ball in high school or college, and retained their Babe Ruth know-how. Others were weekend athletes, fairly trim and muscular, but amateurs with a ball and bat. Some were overweight and out of shape, but compensated with enthusiastic effort.

Pairs of players were throwing balls back and forth, one pitching and one catching. Others were lobbing balls and whacking them with Louisville Sluggers. All wore appropriate headgear and sported baseball gloves which were well-loved and often in use. The practice continued until 7:15 and the men began to disperse.

Booth and Parker descended the bleachers, and several spoke to the agent, knowing him from various cases around the capitol. Parker's smile spread from ear to ear, threatening to split his face. He was very proud of his father and thrilled to have watched this practice session.

"You want another round of pancakes at the diner before I drop you off at school?" Booth asked his son.

"Sure, Dad, I can ALWAYS eat more pancakes! I think I want blueberry this time; Marge knows just how warm to get the syrup! Mom only buys regular syrup, not fruit flavors."

Once they had driven to their favorite eating spot and settled into chairs by the window, Parker declared, "That's the most fun I've had all month! Thanks, Dad, it was a great surprise! Tommy and Will are gonna be so jealous!"

"Parker," Booth began sternly, "that is NOT why I brought you to watch this morning! I'm glad you enjoyed it but don't go bragging to your friends at school; that isn't good sportsmanship! You know better than that; or else I haven't taught you very well!"

Parker sighed, "Yeah, I know, Dad, I won't, but it WOULD be fun to see the looks on their faces!"

"I'm just glad you had a good time, Bub! Now eat up! Your mom will scalp us both if you are late for school!"

 _A/N: Baseball practice at any age should be healthy fun, not a place to get shot at. People on both sides of every issue need to take some very deep breaths, calm down, and realize that everyone else in this country is a fellow human being, whether or not they have the same opinions or disagree about how to improve our country._


	4. Chapter 4

Surprise at Sunrise continued

Having sent his son to the diner's restroom to wash his sticky hands, Booth realized wryly that his hands were sticky as well and joined Parker at the wash basin. Any parent who's grabbed a napkin and reached across the table to wipe their child's mouth would know that the residue sometimes transferred between generations. The pair thanked Marge who handed off Booth's go-cup of hot black coffee as smoothly as an Olympic relay runner. Parker arrived at school in plenty of time for the early bell, and climbed out of his dad's truck after promising not to crow and brag to his friends about the morning's surprise activity.

At the Hoover forty-five minutes later, Booth spent the morning doing paperwork; scanned several memos and letters before signing off on them, reviewed his notes for an afternoon meeting with his agents, and transferred his index card notes from the last few days to his computer. At 11:30 he texted Brennan and decided to enjoy the warm weather by walking the short distance to the Jeffersonian. He stopped at a new Thai restaurant along the way and ordered cucumber salad, zucchini pad thai, spicy basil chicken, and tom kha gai carry-out. Entering his partner's office, he shucked his suit jacket, laid it across the back of her couch, and loosened his tie. Having spotted him, Brennan slipped out of her lab coat, and smiled as she descended the platform steps.

"Booth, hello! What's in the bag?"

"Lunch in the Iris Garden, Bones."

The pair left the lab and walked side by side to their favorite stone bench amid a profusion of pink, yellow, purple, and white blooms.

The first few minutes the partners were silent, relishing their food. Brennan spoke first, "This was a great idea, Booth. It's perfect weather to eat outside; thanks for being so thoughtful."

"Did you hear on the news that man was finally arrested inside Maryland Life Casino near Hanover late last night? He and his accomplice shot and carjacked a man leaving his gym, stole his jeep, and led police on a chase across Anne Arundel and Prince George Counties before they split up.

"He headed into the casino to elude the cops, but they spotted him at the slot machines. When he tried to slip out the back, two servers tried to apprehend him in the kitchen and were shot for their trouble. He had $1000 in cash and 8 grams of cocaine on him when they arrested him. The victims' injuries aren't life-threatening but the shooter is facing serious charges."

"Then I ran into Mrs. Flanagan walking her dog this morning after my run, and she was on her phone yelling at someone. She's convinced we need more gun control laws to prevent random violence. When are people going to realize that guns aren't the problem; the shooters are?"

"Russ called me last week and two thugs surprised him and his boss working late at the machine shop, trying to rob the place. If Mr. Hendley hadn't had a rifle and a pistol in his desk, they might both have been shot! Haley, Emma and the Hendley twins might be fatherless!"

"Weapons are tools just like hammers, lathes and drills. Criminals will always find a way to get their hands on guns. We need more background checks, training classes, and safe handling, not limits on responsible citizens being able to defend themselves."

"Speaking of which, Booth, I no longer need your permission to obtain a firearm. I bought two myself and obtained a concealed carry permit. A Desert Eagle .45 revolver and a .50 caliber pistol. The Israeli military has found them very effective in the field. My archaeologist friend Agnes David recommended them to me. She carries them on digs in the Negev Desert."

Booth swallowed his bite of salad in amazement. "You think you could have found a bigger hand cannon to purchase? I know you're a great marksman, Bones, but those two weapons are overkill; they're _huge_! More suited to the battlefield."

"Booth, when I'm threated at a dig, frequently alone, it IS a battlefield."

Booth stared at her, listening as he chewed his basil chicken.

"Wow, Bones, you are really worked up about this! The gun issue is a real conundrum. I guess the answer lies somewhere in the middle, but you're right that training and knowledge would go a long way to preventing some injuries. There are worthwhile arguments on both sides of the debate, but the Second Amendment is as valid and significant today as when it was ratified."

"People need to be able to defend themselves. I'm not sure we'll ever keep firearms out of the hands of bad guys. When he was on the force in Philly, Pops frequently griped that the criminal element always seem to have a ready supply of untraceable weapons. Makes our job in law enforcement that much harder, not knowing when some looney bird is packing."

"Can we talk about something else, Bones? Your tirade is giving me heartburn."

"Sorry, Booth, I guess I got carried away. Didn't you have Parker last night while Rebecca had class? What did you do to keep him amused?"

"We baked homemade black olive cheese pizza and Mississippi Mud Cake last night. He saved you a piece of each, by the way. This morning I rolled him out of bed at 5:30 and took him to watch a practice session for the Congressional Charity Baseball Game as a surprise. He's playing t-ball this year, and loved it."

"I've gotta hand it to those guys; a lot of them aren't in great physical shape, but they go at this game with all the heart and soul they can muster," Booth told her.

"It's an impressive charity event; I read they raised nearly a half-million dollars last year," Brennan agreed. "Would you like to attend with me next week? The tickets are very reasonably priced."

"If you'll let me buy the tickets, Bones. You can provide the treats. Those concession stands might not offer great bargains."

'You want reserved seating or general admission?"

"Oh, general admission, definitely! It's way more fun to rub elbows with the crowd! And yell, 'Batter, Batter, Batter!' "Booth enthused.

Brennan smiled at her partner indulgently. "If you say so, Booth; I don't know who's the bigger kid; you or Parker!"

"Whont'cha invite the whole lab team? I'll ask Charlie and Lester Brown, Morris Harris, Gennie Shaw, and Sweets; what'cha think, Bones?"

"I think it would be a pleasant group activity for a very worthy cause, Booth. Good idea!"

A/N: Since Booth and Brennan are both logical, thoughtful, and studied people, I wanted to explore what their reactions might be to a situation like what occurred in DC this week. A former Army Ranger/sniper and a woman trained in multiple modes of self-defense after traumatic foster system experiences, these two are adept and familiar with all manner of firearms, which are inanimate tools. What wreaks harm and hurt on people are other humans, those capable of criminal acts, vengeance, and cruelty, which these partners bring to justice.


	5. Chapter 5

An Unexpected Pairing

The prompt for this week is switching around couples among Bones characters, other than Booth and Brennan, a most awkward premise. This is my best effort at a response.

 **A/N: First off, you guys specificed AU, so here it is. I think many opinions of Hannah Burley have been skewed by reading Fan Fiction, which dealt with her in greater depth than the arc of episodes shown on TV. She has grown on me since the series ended, surprisingly. Maybe because I think her character served a purpose to move the Booth-and-Brennan partnership forward, although painfully, and her interjection into that relationship probably gave us at least one extra season of Bones we might not have been able to watch, if the main characters had become personally involved more quickly. Any—way, the idea that popped into my head in response to this prompt is way out in left field, but that's what makes these stories fun to read, so please nobody fuss at me too much.**

After a frustrating morning spent dealing with the stack of paperwork filling his desk, Booth pulled out his I-phone and texted his wife, begging her to meet for lunch. Their workload dealing with three simultaneous cases had prevented her stealing his fries and the scrumptious slices of cherry pie that Marge always saved for him. To make matters worse, he was updating the new agent training agenda, his monthly budget report was due Friday morning; and he was fed up with being stuck in his office, eating a vending-machine sandwich the last several days.

At one time in the past, before she met Booth, Brennan had thought nothing of skipping lunch, crunching her way through an organic energy bar from her bottom desk drawer stash to silence her grumbling empty stomach. Now however, she acknowledged, to herself at least, that taking a break from work was a good idea; often sparking a breakthrough realization when she returned to her examination table, bone slides, or identity puzzles in Limbo. She texted back requesting twenty minutes to finish a report before they headed to the diner.

Grinning happily, Booth trotted down four flights of Hoover stairs, scooted through the revolving door like Parker might, hopped into his SUV, and drove the short distance to the Jeffersonian. He considered walking but it was a raw, windy day. He strode into the lab, waved at Hodgins, and leaned against the door frame of his favorite scientist's office.

"Ready, Bones? Chop, chop! I hear fries and pie calling my name!"

Brennan traded her lab coat for a pale blue merino wool jacket, her last birthday gift from Booth, chosen for matching her eyes. Exchanging kisses as they walked, the pair headed out, discussing whether fingerprint patterns or evidence preservation would be a better topic for his agent training session on Monday. Once they'd parked, Booth pushed open the door, allowing Brennan to enter first, and smiled widely at Marge.

"Where've you two been? One of the kids sick?" their favorite waitress asked.

"Nope, just busy with work," Booth replied. "You got any of that cherry pie Frankie makes, or some apple?"

"We have both, Agent Booth, freshly baked this morning; whichever you prefer!"  
He patted her shoulder and slid into a seat at their favorite table. "One of each; Marge! I'll eat one for lunch, and take one home for dessert tonight!"

Brennan took the other chair facing the doorway and ordered a salad and fruit bowl. "Booth, two pieces of pie in one day is too much sugar; not healthy at a-"

The front door chime sounded as people entered the diner seeking lunch. Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence and her eyes widened.

"What? Bones?" Booth stared at her a moment, then turned around to see what had silenced her health tirade. His mouth dropped open too.

Coming toward them was a couple arm in arm, talking quietly. These two they never expected to see in the same state, much less side by side. _Hannah and Sully?_ They didn't even know one another. The partners concealed their surprise as the pair approached.

"Booth! Tempe! What a surprise finding you here for lunch? At your favorite haunt!" Sully exclaimed.

"Hey, Sul, it's been awhile. What are you doing in DC?" Booth responded casually, not voicing the question he really wanted to ask. _"What in the world are you doing with Hannah Burley?"_

"Hello, Seeley, Temperance, you mind if we join you?" Hannah asked softly. Her eyes twinkled merrily in a most un-reporter-like manner which Booth had _never_ seen from his former girlfriend.

Brennan recovered her voice, stood up, and moved to Booth's side of the table.

"Certainly, we just ordered. Have a seat! What brings you to Washington, Hannah? When and how did you two meet? I thought you were sailing private tours to Cancun, Sully!"

Tim Sullivan smirked at his friends' questions. "Hannah was on assignment covering a meeting between Michael Temer and Enrique Peña Nieto six months ago near the Cozumel resort my charter guests stay at, and the press corps was housed there. We ran into one another on the dock when she was jogging and saw me cleaning my boat," Sully explained.

"The name caught my eye, and I had to ask if he was American," Hannah picked up the story. "It seemed like too much of a coincidence, given that his craft was flying the Stars and Stripes."

Brennan knew that Sully was referring to the presidents of Brazil and Mexico, respectively, who were conferring to improve economic conditions in Central and South America. Their efforts to curb the drug trade were paying off, but tourism had yet to recover. She and Booth had one of their brief silent conversations and he knew she'd fill him in later.

"I've had a few rough edges knocked off in the last few years," Hannah admitted quietly. "I'm considering hanging up my reporter hat, and writing a book about my experiences. Sully here has shown me that stopping to smell the sunsets is worthwhile," she smiled, leaning into him.

"We hit it off right away," Sully said. "Two ex-pats knockin' around the Carribean; it was good to hear someone speaking unaccented English for a change. One thing led to another and we've been seeing each other as our schedules permit. The charter circuit can be pretty tiring after a few years. I've built up an extensive clientele, developed a network of hotel and resort contacts, so I'm thinking of opening a travel agency in the States. Just not sure where yet."

"I won't resign from the AP quite yet so I had to meet with my boss, and Sully came along to recertify as a charter boat captain," Hannah continued as Marge brought their food.

"Baltimore has a National Maritime Regional Exam Center and Monitoring Unit. in Baltimore. There are new Homeland Security Regulations and requirements for updating my Merchant Marine Credentials," Sully told them. "DC's getting real sticky about charter operators insuring their guests aren't on any NSA watch lists."

Hannah reached over and took Sully's hand. "It won't be for a while yet, but my need for wanderlust is about satisfied. I never thought I'd want to settle down, but I haven't met many guys like Tim here, either."

Booth's old friend gazed at the reporter. The expression on his face was very familiar to the couple across the table, having shared it many times themselves. Brennan squeezed Booth's hand under the table and finished her salad.

"I'm happy for you two. We both are."

"Definitely!" Booth echoed.

"At one time, I would've maintained that love is just chemicals and deep connections don't happen between people," Brennan said with a quirky smile. "But I've learned differently."

Booth glanced at his watch. "I have a new agent training meeting this afternoon that starts in forty-five minutes; I've gotta get Bones here back to the lab. Maybe we can meet for drinks or have dinner before you two leave town again."

"We'll be sure to make that happen, Booth," Sully said. "Tempe, can Hannah text or call you tomorrow?"

"My numbers haven't changed. Yours?" Brennan assured them. "Get in touch with either of us and we'll make reservations somewhere quiet so we can talk and catch up. I need to get back and finish slicing a bone sample. It was good running into you like this!"

"Til tomorrow then," Sully replied.

Booth helped Brennan into her coat and the couple left the diner. Once they were buckled in, they both talked at once.

"Can you believe that?"

"Who should we tell first?"

"Angela is going to explode!"

"Cam will be speechless!"

Reaching a stop light, the pair dove for their phones. Pausing, Booth grinned at his wife.

"Nah, let's wait til we're back at the lab! I wanna see the looks on their faces! I'll have to make it quick, but this is too good to wait! Even Director Stark will understand!"

Brennan leaned over and kissed him. "They are both good people, Booth. Not for us, but good people. I hope they'll be happy together."

"You're right, Bones," Booth agreed as he swung the SUV into a Jeffersonian parking place. "Last one inside's a rotten egg!"


	6. Chapter 6

This Will Sting A Little

 _A/N: This week's summer prompt was a little weird, but here's my best stab at fulfilling it!_

"This might burn a little," the nurse warned as she poured antiseptic over Michael Vincent's forearm. In spite of his best efforts to conceal his reaction behind gritted teeth, the lanky teenager still moaned slightly.

Mrs. Foster patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Yell if you need to, kiddo, there's no one around to hear but me, and I'll never reveal your secret. Believe me, hollering certainly helped me cope when I slipped on the ice and twisted my ankle last winter."

"You've been volunteering with us for eight months, Michael. How did this happen?"

"I was feeding the spider monkeys. Today's papyas and kiwis were really ripe and the crate was dripping juice. Panku ran up to grab some and I tripped over his foot. Preena was sitting nearby with little Vrana, and my stumbling must have startled her. While I was gathering the spilt fruit, she took a swipe at my arm."

"The supply department should consider ordering elbow-length protective gloves next time. Wearing a longer glove would have prevented your injury. You're the third person Preena's scratched this month. She grabbed several blossoms last week and got Kenny on his left bicep."

"Primates are always protective of their offspring the first few months, but she has been overly so with this most recent baby. The previous infant was stillborn, so maybe the loss intensified her maternal instincts. Either that or perhaps she is ill herself. You should ask the the vet to check her over."

Christine Booth was waiting in the zoo clinic's outer office when Michael Vincent emerged from the small exam room sporting a gauze bandage. Mrs. Foster smiled at the pair. "You two watch your extremities around those monkeys, y'hear?

"We will, Mrs. Foster. Thanks for patching me up," said Michael.

Christine grinned at the nurse. "You have a gentler first aid technique than my mom; she really _scrubs_ when she disinfects my cuts at home!"

The nurse had watched the young friends help out at the zoo since third grade; first with their parents in a Families Helping program; and more recently, together as middle school volunteers. She'd known Seeley Booth for over a decade, meeting him when he brought Parker to work at the zoo during the first year their young volunteer program opened. And now even little Hank was coming to the bi-monthly parent/child helper days with his mom.

"Geez, dude, Preena really scratched you; there was some blood on the concrete! After you left, the monkeys gobbled up that fruit like they hadn't eaten in a week!"

"Once they settled down, I brought Old Darwin his peanut butter, celery sticks and bananas. I love watching him scoop up peanut butter on a celery stalk! You might now, just as soon as I set it inside the enclosure, Preena scrambled over and tried to steal a banana from him. Baby Vrana was hanging on for dear life."

"Darwin scolded her, but she kept after him. Then he threw celery at her. She still wouldn't let up. After her third attempt, he flung a huge glob of peanut butter at her. It hit poor little Vrana right in the chest. Didn't bother her a bit, though. She just started eating it with her tiny hands. 'Ccourse, so did her mom, scooped it right off her baby, smearing it all over her fur. She kept grabbing Darwin's banana slices for herself, too. She really is a gutton! "

"I'm telling you, Michael, that is one messy little monkey, let me tell you! If Preena doesn't clean her up, we'll be giving baby monkey baths!"

"I'm glad I didn't get hurt any worse; that antiseptic Mrs. Foster poured on my arm really stung!" Michael complained.

"Yeah, I know, I cut my hand on a cage latch last week and she used it on me. Yuck!" Christine agreed. "I wonder what happened to that Bactine spray my mom used when we were little, that didn't burn at all; 'member?"

"Yup, I liked that stuff; you didn't have to listen to the adults telling you to be brave! It didn't hurt at all."

"I'm glad you weren't hurt any worse, Michael," she told her friend. "I was worried you might need stitches."

That evening at dinner, Booth asked his children how their day had been. Hank launched into an exuberant account of teaching Cub Scouts how to tie knots. He was helping at the DC National Capital District day camp. Two of the younger scouts attempted tying up each other, rather than practicing their knots.

Christine chuckled to herself, remembering silly times at Brownie Day Camp. She and Kennedy had once been covered with gooey chocolate and marshmallows trying to make s'mores for their friends on a particularly hot day.

Brennan inquired how her day volunteering at the National Zoo had gone. This was the third summer Christine and Michael Vincent had worked there. As eighth graders, they also volunteered one Saturday a month during the school year with FONZKids, Friends of the National Zoo's successful youth auxiliary program in operation since 1977. Christine recounted spending her morning measuring non-poisonous baby snakes, and the afternoon feeding the zoo's various residents. She described the spider monkeys' antics, Momma Preena's jealous tricks, and explained Michael Vincent's injury. Then she told her family in detail how the female had harassed Old Darwin and the results of their food feud, including the sticky aftermath for the littlest primate.

Booth had tears running down his cheeks. "Pops used to love watching the monkeys!"

Hank was shaking with silent laughter. He finally caught his breath and asked, "Did you get a picture to post on Instagram?"

Brennan laughed despite her concern for Angela's son. "Young primates play and wrestle like human children. Female monkeys are as protective and jealous as the Real Housewives of Atlanta or the Jersey Shore!"

Christine chuckled at her family's reaction.

"You should have seen Preena when Darwin was finished with her!"

"Why, Chrissy? What happened?" Hank wanted to know.

"Darwin is a very fastidious eater. He never gets his face dirty. But he kept lobbing handfuls of peanut butter at Preena in retribution for stealing his food! And that's why the monkey was covered in peanut butter."


	7. Chapter 7

Birthday

 _A/N: These next five short chapters comprise the current week's challenge for subject-related 100-word segments. I'm within this limit, not counting comments and titles._

Part 1 Arrival

Confident that prisoners wouldn't harm a pregnant woman, Brennan sought Hayes Jackson' shoes, with Booth in frantic protective pursuit.

"We have to run."

"I'm in labor."

Cranking the A/C to its highest setting, Booth sought speed amid the road's potholes.

"Pull over now!"

Booth found himself between an irate primigravida and a fastidious innkeeper.

Facing imminent lawn delivery, the frantic man shooed them toward a rear outbuilding.

Straw and his suit coat became her bed.

Bickering between contractions, he wiped her forehead as she panted.

Glimpsing blond curls between splayed legs, Booth encouraged, "Push! You're doing great!"

"There she is!"


	8. Chapter 8

Part 2 Infant No Longer

After a requisite 360° whirl, Parker's strong arms swung her into a highchair throne. The bouncing beribboned topknot reflected its owner's excitement at her favorite dessert's appearance. Tiny fingers sampled vanilla icing before the applesauce cake even touched down. No sense waiting until the serenading stopped! Colorful paper scraps from gleefully-ripped gifts adorned the lounge floor. Duplos, tricycle, puzzles, and baby dolls awaited future playtimes. Coordinated summer outfits spilled from tissued boxes. Extensively-travelled with Grandpa before this first birthday, Christine Angela smiled into look-alike brown eyes and adoring blue ones, lifted her arms, and crowed "Up, Dada! Up, Momma, up!"


	9. Chapter 9

Part 3 Segundo Compleaños

At Jeffersonian day care, Christine soaked up knowledge like a sponge, counting to five in Spanish, and lisping her way through the birthday anthem. She spent the morning playing trucks on the back porch with Michael Vincent, her best buddy, while Aunt Angela added a Frozen mural to her closet door. Russ and Amy brought her a tiny training wheeled bicycle and Granpa Max carried in a Little Tykes basketball set. As birthday cake was finished, her parents pointed to a picnic basket in the grass. Escaping its lid, the occupant licked her face—a puppy!


	10. Chapter 10

Part 4 Seventh Birthday

Hyped with excitement, Christine chose a T-Rex backpack for kindergarten. By October, her teacher requested a parent conference with Booth and Brennan. Because their unusually-intelligent daughter was far beyond ABC's and number play, the school recommended moving her into their self-paced academic program, where she advanced effortlessly through the Montessori-style curriculum.

Max delighted her multi-aged birthday guests with his Jeffersonian Kids' astronomy class. The family camped out on the institution's roof peering through her new telescope.

"She'll be ready for college by age 15, Booth."

"Yup, Bones, balancing maturation without stifling her brainpower will be tough."


	11. Chapter 11

Part 5 Thirteenth Birthday

Booth awakened in the soft shadows of early morning, and realizing the date, gently nudged his wife. Brennan opened her eyes questioningly.

"You recall what we were doing where thirteen years ago today, Bones? After you took ten years off my life plowing through those inmates?"

"Your sentence is garbled," she teased gently. "But yes, I do. Enacting the manger myth your faith teaches."

"Not!"

"Well, what our daughter brought us is mythical; love, fulfillment, so much joy."

"Nearly a young woman; such potential and promise. Just like her mother," Booth whispered.

"We're so fortunate!"

" _Blessed."_


	12. Chapter 12

A Law Enforcement Reunion

A/N: This chapter answers the prompt regarding two characters meeting years ago and later on, some remembering the earlier encounter; some not.

Officer Cullen rose from his chair, straightened his shoulders, and stood at attention with the rest of his rookie class as the Police Commissioner entered the room. The PC was accompanied by a broad-shouldered Lieutenant, or at least that's what Cullen thought, quickly scanning the man's insignia. This aspect of law-enforcement was still a bit like decoding the Rosetta Stone for the new graduates.

"As you were; take your seats," their boss said to the group. "You people should find today's orientation session especially interesting. Lieutenant Booth here knows more about policing Philly than anyone on the force."

"We've tried to promote him to Captain, but he claims he's allergic to sitting behind a desk. Your class is particularly lucky to hear his presentation; since he'll be changing assignments soon. Listen up and learn all you can from this guy. His advice may save your bacon on duty someday."

"Booth, you may take over."

Patting the man's back, Commissioner Hardesty spoke softly, "Thanks, Hank." His subordinate cleared his throat.

"It's nothing, Jim. Somebody's gotta get these newbies ready for the streets." Then he squared his shoulders and saluted smartly. The commissioner saluted back and left the room.

Lt. Booth strode to the podium and addressed his listeners. "I don't stand on ceremony during these little talks. If you have a question, just raise your hand."

"Having your eyes and ears open, your wits about you, and your partner's wellbeing in mind will keep both of you safer during your duty tours. Listen to the people you encounter. Don't assume they are bad; use your common sense in assessing each situation you come across on your beats. I'm not talking about when you're called to a crime scene, that's serious stuff immediately. I'm referring to making your daily rounds."

"The citizens we serve need to know we're around for their benefit. Don't assume anything when you approach someone. Assess the scene for yourself. Use your head and listen to your gut. Follow the Patrol Guide."

For the rest of the morning, the seasoned cop gave out sound advice and valuable insights to the newly-minted patrol officers. Proposing scenarios they might encounter, he discussed different ways of handling difficulties and challenges he knew these people would face. He covered many topics Sam Cullen had never thought about much; offering guidance based on years of experience, hard-won knowledge from years on the force.

After dismissal for lunch and a stern warning to return promptly, Lt. Booth opened the floor for questions from his students.

"Being a cop is a mix of jobs; psychologist, parent, school principal, dean of conduct, babysitter for lost kids, rescuer of stuck kittens; a whole raft of different roles you assume at a moment's notice, depending on what you're confronted with. I know you people have ridden with a senior officer for a couple of weeks, gotten your feet wet a bit."

"What concerns do you have? Confused about how to apply the guidelines in your manual? Any topic is fair game in here; if you've got questions, ask away. There's no such thing as a stupid question. Only stupid action is not being willing to admit you need a little help."

For the next several hours, Lt. Booth fielded questions of all sorts from his audience. The first few speakers were hesitant and stiff, but his open manner set them at ease, and soon nearly everyone had participated in the session. By the end of the afternoon, the group of new officers felt better about their future.

They had entered the police academy ready to serve, but plenty nervous about their chances of success. The senior officer in front of them had handled every inquiry they threw at him with humor, serious looks, empathy, and experience. They realized what he said was 'the real deal' because he came across as a straight shooter.

oooooooo

A year later, Sam Cullen heard that Lt. Booth had been promoted to Captain in a new precinct created to provide more officers in each area of town. He worked as a patrol cop for five years, and went to night school on the GI Bill to finish his degree. His time in Vietnam as an MP had been good preparation for law enforcement, and he received citations and recognition for his exemplary service. By the time he graduated, Julia had given him a daughter Amy. The baby was the apple of her grandparents' eyes. On more than one occasion, Cullen remembered, applied, and appreciated the sage advice he'd heard from Lt. Booth during his first year on the job. The man had been right; it got him out of several tight spots, and saved his partner's life one dark night in a seedy alley.

The FBI Supervisory Senior Agent in Philadelphia was a good friend of Commissioner Hardesty. One day he asked if any Philly cops would make good agents. James Hardesty took the welfare of his police officers seriously and that included their futures. He called Sam Cullen into his office and let him know about the FBI opportunity being presented.

"I'd hate to lose you, Sam, but inter-agency cooperation is important, and I'd expect you to go far in the FBI. A good working relationship with other law enforcement groups is worth its weight in gold, so I suspect my passing you on to the Feds would bear fruit for our department in the future. If you're interested, I'll recommend you."

Sam Cullen had a serious discussion with his wife that night. He enjoyed being a cop, but joining the FBI would make better use of his education. He was working on his Masters' degree as time permitted. The couple decided to accept Hardesty's offer. By the time Amy was ready for pre-school, her father was a successful agent in the Dover office.

A few years later, Cullen's father-in-law became seriously ill. The man had worked for NASA as a senior mathematician at Langley. Julia was worried sick about her parents, and wanted to move closer to home to help them. The D.C. FBI office had an opening in the Major Crimes Division, and Sam's outstanding record made it easy for his boss to recommend him, although losing his talent was a very distasteful prospect. The family settled in Alexandria as Amy started kindergarten.

ooooooooooo

Eight years later, Sam Cullen was the Deputy Director of Major Crimes. He had a sound contingent of agents under his command, and was known as a tough but fair boss. Remembering Jim Hardesty's example, he took an interest in his agents' lives and knew their families well enough to gauge whether one needed a day off or a session with the department shrink.

One of his most talented agents, a transfer from New York, reminded him of the Philadelphia police lieutenant he'd once learned so much from. He'd suspected their connection within a few days of meeting the new man, but he kept his suspicions to himself. The agent was a bit rogue, working on his own, but highly instinctual and gifted at unravelling clues, nosing out persons of interest, connecting evidence, and coaxing confessions out of nervous suspects during interrogations.

After a new federal coroner recommended the FBI work with a scientist to identify a particularly decomposed corpse, Cullen found himself listening to a very angry Judge Hasty. The agent assigned to work with this forensic specialist had taken her along to a concert hall seeking evidence to match victim injuries.

Subsequently, when the pair had requested the judge to meet them there, the scientist had punched the federal magistrate in the nose. Holding the receiver away from his ear to endure the judge's irate phone call, Cullen found himself regretting the permission he'd given for a trial partnership between his agent and the 'squint'. But the woman's legendary forensic skills were hard to deny, and the partnership continued. Booth and Brennan's success rate in solving cold cases brought acclaim to the DC office and Cullen as well.

By the 75th anniversary of the FBI's founding, the partners had the best solve record in the East Coast. A whole week of ceremonies and festivities were planned to mark the FBI's longevity, including a family tour of the Hoover Building followed by a huge cookout in Rock Creek Park. Agents brought not only their children, but extended family members to wander the august halls of J. Edgar's former domain.

Sam Cullen, accompanied by Julia and thirteen-year-old Amy, greeted his agents and their guests. Most agents had a raft of relatives in tow, but when Seeley Booth approached, he was followed by just two people; his son Parker and a gray-haired man. Cullen knew that Dr. Brennan was away for the weekend presenting a forensic seminar at the University of Cincinnati, or she would have most likely been present with Booth.

As Agent Foxx moved on, Booth walked over to Cullen and greeting Julia warmly. "Director, Mrs. Cullen, I'd like you to meet my grandfather, Hank Booth. I think you know my son Parker."

"Pops, this is my boss, Sam Cullen, his wife Julia, and their daughter Amy."

Director Cullen extended his hand and smiled broadly. "Captain Booth, it's a pleasure to see you again."

Booth was dumbstruck. "You know my Pops?"

His director nodded. "I don't know if he remembers me, but I certainly remember him. Hank Booth gave a talk to my rookie class when I was a newbie cop in Philly. The sage advice he gave us was excellent. Heeding his suggestions saved my hide more than once. Your grandfather was one of the best cops Philly ever had."

The director noted the same broad shoulders in grandfather and grandson. Hank Booth shook Cullen's hand firmly. Despite his advancing age, his grip was still impressive.

"Of course, I remember you, Sam Cullen. I wouldn't be much of a cop if I didn't have a memory for faces," Hank chuckled.

"I followed your career in the department. You did very well there. It was too bad you left the city, and I kind of lost track of you for a while. But when Shrimp here joined the FBI, I heard your name again. Seems to me you've mentored Shrimp here really well, and for that I'm grateful."

Parker giggled. Booth's face reddened at the use of his childhood nickname, but smiled sheepishly.

Sam Cullen clapped Hank on the back heartily. "Your grandson and his sciency partner have made me look good! He's one of the best agents we have! Of course, Dr. Brennan is a big part of that success."

Hank smiled broadly. "The beautiful doctor….a feisty and opinionated lady, but she's a keeper for sure, idn't she!"

Cullen agreed. "Yes, that she is! And I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for your wise presentation way back when I was a rookie. I won't go into the details, but your advice saved me and my partner on more than one tour of duty."


	13. Chapter 13

A Teacher's Encounter

 **A/N: This is my second 'met/re-met years later' challenge prompt chapter. I had another idea but lost it. If I remember it, I'll add a third chapter to this prompt.**

Brennan's lecture ended, she gathered her notes from the podium and moved to sit at a nearby table where her favorite fountain pen waited. This book tour was very different from her usual ones. She'd finally completed her Grad Student Guide to Forensic Digs in November and its publisher recently issued the first run of books.

The informative manual was well-received, and her publisher had suggested she tour several prominent anthropology campuses for a unique spring break book-signing event. At eleven, Christine was eager to come along, and Booth thought it would comprise a nice family trip. (She was currently enamored with JK Rowlings' famous book series and secretly wished an owl would fly down their living room chimney with her Hogwarts student summons.)

Because of its academic nature, her book prompted many scientific inquiries from readers, so her book tour presentation included an account of her extensive dig experiences followed by a question/answer period before she signed the crisp new volumes. Reviewers had so praised her clear explanations of the excavation processes that many fans of Kathy and Andy fans had bought her Forensic Digs Guide and were flocking to scheduled campuses to join the students meeting her.

Before long, a line of eager talkative fans snaked around the X100L Atrium conference room and out into the Vernier Commons of Smith Laboratory. Brennan's publishing assistant made a mental note to thank Dr. McGraw for convincing her that Slettebak Planetarium was _not_ the place to hold Brennan's event. Though impressive, it was far too small for this enthusiastic crowd. Christine proudly sat beside her mother, making sure her water bottle was easily within reach. Booth stood off to the side, quietly observing his girls. Seven-year-old Hank had been left in the care of Mr. Buxley and his sister, now retired in Columbus. The energetic boy was fascinated by Brennan's old friend and terrible at sitting still. Few of the people handing Brennan their books knew that she'd attended high school in their state. However, one impatient reader was very aware of this fact. The older lady hugged her book close and chortled to herself at Brennan's coming surprise. Olivia Hardy had taught biology at Burtonville High School for several years before joining the bio-anthropology lab staff at OSU as a graduate student. Tempe Brennan had taken to science like a dragonfly consuming mosquitoes. She'd greatly enjoyed having a truly superlative student so interested in her honors classes, and volunteered to write academic recommendations for the girl's college scholarship applications. Standing awkwardly in the classroom doorway, Tempe had quietly stammered heartfelt gratitude for her teacher's assistance as financial grant awards arrived in the high school's mail. Gently embracing her student, Olive felt her stiffen in response. A bright smile was all the thanks she needed, and she'd followed Brennan's successful career ever since.

Lost in remembering, Ms. Hardy felt a nudge from the patron behind her and stepped forward in the line. She observed the little girl and studied the tall man nearby. Brennan smiled at each person proffering a book, scrawled a notation and her name, handing it back with a low-spoken comment. _How much she has grown,_ Olive thought to herself. When her turn came, she watched Brennan's expressions change. Notice, scrutiny, memories scanned, recognition. A smile lit the author's face.

"Ms. Hardy?"

"Yes, Tempe, it's me. Been a long time since Room 302, eh? You've really come far, done well, I'm so proud of you."

Brennan stood up and moved around the table, hugging her former teacher.

"How did-, where have you-?

Olive Hardy smiled back. Making Dr. Temperance Brennan speechless didn't happen often.

"I left high school teaching a few years after you graduated, earned advanced degrees at OSU, and headed their bioarchaeology research program until I retired last year. Went on a few digs myself, but I prefer clean labs to dusty expeditions," she chuckled.

"You made such a difference in my life….I've got to sign the rest of these books….could you have dinner with us tonight; my husband and children?" Brennan asked softly. She turned to Booth and communicated silently. He walked over and offered his hand, shaking Olive's warmly.

"Why don't we talk over here, so Bones can get back to her autographing?" he said pleasantly. "I take it you know my wife?"

"Oh, yes, she's changed a bit, more outgoing, but such an achiever," Ms. Hardy offered. "You call her 'Bones'?"

"Kinda fits, don'tcha think?"

"Yes, Mr. Booth, it certainly does….that's your daughter, I take it?"

"Christine. We also have a son, Hank. He's seven. Too wiggly for this sort of place. Left him with Mr. Buxley. Remember him?" Booth said grinning. He liked this lady immediately. She reminded him of Grams.

"Ray Buxley and I are good friends. Tempe showed such promise. We did what we could during the school days. The other kids didn't get her intelligence; weren't so nice at times. Her home situation wasn't either. Guess they've found out now how great she is, huh?"

"Yeah, we went to a reunion at Burtonville by chance a few years back; went there for a case and met a few classmates in the process," Booth shared judiciously.

Ooooooooooooooo

Once the book signing ended, Brennan thanked her publishing assistant, spoke to a few other OSU faculty members who'd come to her talk, and collected her messenger bag. Her arm around Christine's shoulders, she approached where Booth and Ms. Hardy sat talking.

"Booth, let's go collect Hank and find somewhere to eat; I've invited Ms. Hardy along."

"You taught my mom?" Christine asked when the adults finally stopped talking. She was beyond curious about this diminutive lady.

"Oh, yes, Christine. Your mother was the best biology student I ever had. She's a very smart lady."

"Yup, she sure is!" the girl agreed. "She taught me all the bones before I started school. Made up a song for them!"

"Well, it sounds like you're pretty smart, too, Christine," Ms. Hardy observed.

The four exited Smith Laboratory Hall and climbed into the limo waiting outside. Booth asked his daughter which fans she'd found most interesting as Brennan and Olive talked quietly. The teacher related that she'd been married eight years to a fellow graduate student who left on a dig one summer and never returned to the States. Having found true love with a Turkish expedition guide, Stanley Heckman had contacted her a year later, expressing his regret, unabashedly requesting an uncontested divorce via registered mail. Resuming her own name, Olive never looked back.

"I couldn't wait to watch your face when you saw me, Tempe. You never said much, but your eyes did. Observing my students' faces over the years told me a great deal about their academic interest and likely success."

"You're a good judge of people like my husband," Brennan told her. "That's not my strong suite, but he's taught me a lot about human nature. Living people are much more intriguing than I once believed."

Arriving back at the tidy house Ray Buxley shared with his spinster sister, the group found that choosing a restaurant was unnecessary. Martha Buxley had prepared salads, side dishes and vegetarian kabobs while her brother grilled burgers and hot dogs outside. Watching her young son's glee, Brennan stifled her objections to 'beef lips and salivary glands' in favor of her family's enjoyment of a backyard feast. She figured an occasional hot dog was no worse than smalahove or skilpadjies.

The two high school staffers didn't see each other as often as they'd like, so the meal was enjoyable for all. Later that evening, when their limo driver returned, he dropped Ms. Hardy at her tiny Craftsmen bungalow before delivering the family back at their hotel. Christine chattered nonstop once they were alone, and it took longer than usual to get both kids settled in bed for the night.

As they slipped into the Egyptian cotton-sheeted king bed beside each other, Booth kissed his wife and observed that she never knew who would show up at her book signings.

Brennan smiled back. "Ms. Hardy was a big reason why I was able to attend Northwestern. She offered to write scholarship recommendations for me and got other faculty members to do so as well, when I couldn't work up the nerve to ask any of my teachers. I had to work several part time jobs during college, but without her help, I'd never have been able to afford attending a university of that caliber."

"She knew talent when she saw it, Bones."

"I can't believe she kept track of me all these years!"

"I can, Bones, you're very unforgettable. G'nite, my smart gorgeous wife!"

"G'nite, Booth."

 **A/N: Smalahover is a Norwegian dish, eaten around Christmas, made from sheeps' head. Fleece and skin are torched, brain removed, then the head is salted, smoked, or dried. Then the head is put to boil for about 3 hours, and served with mashed potatoes or rutabaga _._ A half head is one serving. The eye and ear are usually consumed first, since they are fattiest and should be eaten warm. People eat the head from front to back, extracting meat from around the skull's bones. Skilpadjies is a traditional South African dish, made by wrapping lamb's liver wrapped in netvet, a fatty membrane that surrounds the kidneys.**


	14. Chapter 14

A Domicile for Daisy

 _A/N: Who are the 6 'regular' characters of Bones? I posed this question on Bonesology and got no answer, so I'm going with Daisy. Yes, she hasn't been on the show much in the last season, but Sweets was an integral if irritating part of the Booth/Bones universe, and as his other half, Daisy is important was well. If you don't agree, please tell me why in your reviews._

Daisy placed her wedding picture in a nest of tissue paper and folded each layer around its frame with great care. Her apartment was filled with photos of Sweets in various sizes so she could constantly remind little Seeley who his Daddy was. It had been a year since playing Guinevere to his Lancelot had turned so tragic, and she felt it was time to invest in a permanent home for her son.

The financial aspects of Lance's death had finally been settled, and she found herself with enough money to buy a small house. Her position in the Smithsonian anthropology department was far less stressful than solving crimes with Dr. Brennan, with regular hours perfect for a single mom. She also worked as a fill-in teaching assistant for Saturday classes at American University occasionally when someone was ill.

She had chosen a two-bedroom cottage with a small study which could double as a guest room, in New Carrollton where Wendell lived. He and Andie were engaged, planning a small summer wedding. Daisy knew her former fellow intern would always have her back with maintenance issues. The house had a sunny kitchen, a small study which doubled as a guest room, and a fenced backyard for play adventures.

The area even had sidewalks for bike riding when her boy grew up a bit. Leaving the apartment she'd shared with Sweets was emotionally difficult. There wasn't a surface they hadn't made love on, in, or under. Fond memories abounded, but Daisy was ready for a place of her own.

Even with all the preparation and planning she'd done, her acquisition of the house reminded her of her parents' favorite old movie "Mr. Blanding Builds His Dream House." Like Myrna Loy, she had a terrible time conveying to the painter what colors she wanted. Like Cary Grant's, her budget was under constant expansionary attack.

Her renovation ideas had been simple cosmetic updates, but several construction deficiencies had to be remedied before her closing was approved. The men on the Jeffersonian team had come to her rescue, spending several weekends sprucing the place up. Arastoo brought his newly adopted trio of sons, and Booth brought Parker.

The boys pitched in cleaning up the backyard garden patch and flowerbeds, trimmed the shrubbery, and mowed the lawn. The community pool a block away had just opened, so once they'd set the yard to rights, the teenagers were released to cool off and go swimming.

Hodgins and Booth volunteered to make an ice cream run to Carvel's on Anapolis Road, and returned with a whole sackful of choices. The two men had made an 'executive' decision to buy half-gallons of several flavors, rather than individual capped serving cups, since the place wasn't known for bargain pricing.

But the creamy consistency and exquisite fresh fruit flavors were legendary around D.C. and Seeley was thrilled with his favorite treat. Like his father, Peanut Butter Rocky Road was the only logical choice. As Booth and Hodgins placed their purchases in the freezer, Daisy kissed them both on the cheeks, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Lance brought me Carvel's ice cream at least three times a week. How I wish he was here!"

Booth put a reassuring arm around her slight frame, and said softly, "He is, Daisy, he is. We just can't see him. Sweets is always with you, right here." And he gently tapped his chest, grinning slightly. "You know what I mean; I can't tap your chest; it wouldn't be proper."

Daisy smiled in spite of herself. "Booth you really are a gallant knight in FBI armor! Thank you for reminding me of that."

Angela came into the kitchen just then, holding two pieces of a figurine. "Daisy, do you have some old school Elmer's Glue, not that washable school crap? Your fertility vase cracked at its base, and came apart in my hands as I unpacked it. I'm sorry it broke; I thought I had it wrapped sufficiently, but I can easily mend it so the seam won't show. Could've been much worse. You got this in Maluku, didn't you? It's very similar to the one Bren has in her office."

Daisy handed her the bottle, along with a bowl of cherry vanilla and a spoon. She scooped ice cream into bowls for the rest of her friends, and carried them to her kitchen table. "Thank you all so much; you've made my move so much easier. It would have taken me weeks to transport and unload all my stuff without your assistance!"


End file.
